


Unscripted

by msk



Series: Unscripted Universe [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msk/pseuds/msk
Summary: We’re like two people at a bus stop who had a really great conversation, drank far too much alcohol and just happened to get on the same bus.
Relationships: James Hathaway/Original Female Character(s), Laura Hobson/Robert Lewis
Series: Unscripted Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969822
Comments: 27
Kudos: 70





	1. James Comes Out of His Shell

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed story. I'm in final edits for a good part of the story and will be posting one or maybe even two chapters every few days.

James Hathaway hated parties. They were full of small talk, and he wasn’t good at small talk. He usually avoided them, but this had been one invitation he could not decline. No, this party was to celebrate the cohabitation of Robbie Lewis and Laura Hobson and that was something he very much supported. Hathaway calculated he would need to spend at least one hour before he made his escape.

He remembered the last party he’d attended at this house, not long after he first started working with Lewis. That time he’d had Robbie to commiserate with as they drank out in the garden, both of them eager to escape the raucous group of Laura’s doctor friends. But now, Lewis was co-host and though he might want to escape, he lived here now.

Tonight, the house was noisy and crowded with a drunken mix of doctors and cops. It was a smaller group than Laura’s “significant but unnamed birthday” bash had been. Hathaway was on his second beer and had quite enough of the “so great about those two” discussions. Not that he didn’t think it’s great, but by the sixth iteration of the conversation, he was ready to chew through his restraints.

James had chatted with an elegantly dressed Chief Superintendent Innocent briefly before she left for a fancier event. He wondered if the elusive Mr. Innocent was attending or if he even actually existed. 

As he was only ten minutes into his compulsory hour, he headed out into the garden. It was a bit chilly, so the garden wasn’t nearly as crowded as the house and he could smoke. He was comfortable in a jumper and top coat, his collar turned up against the cool air.

Fairy lights were strung up around the perimeter with a few lanterns for added measure. Robbie and Laura had set up a few tables and chairs, most of which were in use. The glider was also occupied, unfortunately. A small bistro table at the edge of the patio was free. He sat down and lit a cigarette.

A woman walked through the back door of the house, a glass of wine in her hand. She glanced around the garden, maybe trying to decide if she wanted to join one of the other groups. Apparently not, as she walked through to stand at the end of the patio and look out into the darkened yard.

James stood up, indicating his chair, “Please. Take this table.” 

“I couldn’t,” she said. “But maybe we could pull over an empty chair.”

She looked up at him, smiling. He was glad she didn’t remark on his height. People always felt the need to comment, as if he had no idea how tall he was. James pulled over an empty chair from one of the other tables and they sat down. She was pretty, with straight dark hair brushing her shoulders; his age, or maybe a bit younger. 

“James Hathaway,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. “Do you mind if I smoke?” 

“Not at all,” she replied. “I’m Giulia Ferrante. People call me Lia.” Her hand was warm and strong when she shook his. The smile remained in her eyes. “You’re a policeman, right? Robbie’s partner?”

“I’m his sergeant,” he replied. “How do you know...?” he gestured toward the house with his now empty beer bottle.

“Laura and I are friends,” she responded. “We met through a book club that neither of us enjoyed enough to stay with. Now we mostly walk around the neighborhood when we’re both free in the evening.” She rose, lifting up her empty glass. “Another beer?”

“Maybe wine, instead. Whatever you’re having,” he said. She went back into the house, returning in a few minutes with two wine glasses and a full bottle of wine.

“Pinched this from the drinks table. It’s a particularly nice Tuscan wine. I wasn’t sure anyone else would appreciate it.”

She was right--it was very good. Lia told him her family had emigrated from Tuscany after the war and that she and her siblings had spent most summers there when they were growing up. James had traveled extensively in Italy during his college and seminary years, so they compared notes. He was careful not to mention the seminary. That subject tended to derail conversation and surprisingly, he was enjoying this one too much to send it off into a religion ditch.

They moved on from Italian cities to their favorite food and wine in Italy and after that to talk about his work (a heavily abridged version) and hers as a speech therapist for the local school system. She complimented him on his diction. Next topic was life in Oxford and what they each loved about it. He told her how he loved the bells signalling each hour. She said she loved how parts of the college area reminded her of town squares in Italy.

Hathaway was amazed later to realize that they’d knocked off the first bottle of wine and most of a second. Checking his watch, he found that he’d surpassed his one hour to the point that the garden had grown quite empty. 

“I had no idea it was so late,” Lia said as she stood swaying slightly. “Probably best to be off home.”

“I should be leaving as well,” he said. “We’re both well over the limit, I’m afraid.” 

“I walked tonight. I’m only down the road and around the corner.” 

“Then please allow me to walk you home,” James said. 

“Thank you,” she said, “I’d like that.”

They went in to bid goodnight to Robbie and Laura who both looked at them with undisguised curiosity. 

“The spare room is yours, James,” Laura called out as she waved to them from the front door. 

He hoped a brisk walk would clear his head, but oddly, he felt even more drunk. As they made their way down the street, Lia slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow. If she was looking for added stability, she was probably out of luck; they were weaving in unison and laughing over it. They made an exaggerated roundhouse turn at the corner, almost falling together as they moved onto the next street.

“This is me,” she said as she pulled him up the brick walk to a tidy semi-detached house. She stood on the first step and turned to face him. He moved closer to steady her when she wobbled a bit. Lia put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Now I don’t have to crane my neck.”

She kissed him and he tasted the wine she’d been drinking and the chocolate biscuit she’d snagged from a tray on her way through the house. James was no expert on kissing given his limited experience, but this seemed like a very good one. 

She smiled as they pulled apart, but her hands didn’t leave his shoulders. Instead she linked her hands around his neck. Her coat was unbuttoned, and he let his hands slip in to span her waist. He tilted his head, smiled and returned her kiss.

“Would you like to come in? I have a bottle of that wine I told you about. Brought it back from my last trip.”

Looking back, James realized it was probably not the smartest thing to drink even more wine, but good decisions seemed to have been left in Robbie and Laura’s garden. Lia unlocked the door and they stumbled inside. 

He didn’t remember much after they finished that bottle of wine. He remembered they were sitting on her sofa and that there was a lot more kissing. He remembered Lia throwing a leg over him and straddling his lap and more kissing. He remembered becoming aroused as she moved against him. He remembered what her body felt like when reached under her sweater to cup her breasts.

He has a recollection of Lia leading him upstairs to her bedroom. He’s pretty sure he had a moment of concern about his skinny arms and legs, but Lia didn’t seem to find him overly storkish as he undressed. He did remember almost falling as his jeans caught around his ankles. And he remembers Lia’s smooth skin very clearly, how golden it seemed in the lamp light. 

At some point, he believed he said something about unprotected sex. He remembered laying naked on Lia’s bed listening to drawers and cabinet doors being rather frantically opened and shut and Lia mumbling in the bathroom before she stumbled back to the bedroom holding aloft a condom package and saying “Ta da!” He only hoped they were able to deploy it successfully.

Hathaway only has impressions after that point, but they are all very good impressions. He recalls skin against skin, and the rhythm of movement as he entered her and her face as she threw her head back as she came. 

His next awareness was waking in an unfamiliar bed with a massive headache. His cell phone vibrated somewhere in the twisted pile of his clothing. His hands felt clumsy as he dug through the pockets of his tangled jeans and pulled out the phone. 

Hathaway ducked into the bathroom and closed the door to avoid waking Lia. Before he could answer, the call went to voicemail. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until he liberated a couple of paracetamol tablets from the medicine cabinet, downing them with several glassfuls of water. 

He listened to the voicemail--a call out for a suspicious death along the Cherwell and calculated whether he would have time to stop home and change clothes. He didn’t like the alternative of going to the scene in the jeans and jumper from last night and receiving the inevitable teasing from Robbie and Laura. No, he would go home to change and take the ribbing for being late instead. He washed his face and dressed quickly.

Hathaway looked over at Lia as she slept, her hair trailing across her pillow. In sunlight, he saw that it was actually light brown. He thought of waking her to say goodbye but that would only delay his arrival at the scene. James pulled a business card out of his coat pocket and wrote “Sorry. Had to leave--called in to to work.” on the back. It seemed ridiculously blunt, but if he tried to put his feelings into words he would need a lot more time and a lot more paper. And first he’d have to figure out what those feelings actually were. 

He brought over a full glass of water, the paracetamol and his card and put them on her bedside table. Then letting himself out of the house he walked back to his car, parked near Robbie and Laura’s house. Their vehicles were gone. Oh yes, there was going to be a good deal of laughter at his expense.


	2. Two People at a Bus Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re like two people at a bus stop and had a really great conversation, drank far too much alcohol and just happened to get on the same bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a complete story. I'm in final edits on the remaining chapters. I'll be posting new chapters ever few days.

*James, hope you can meet me for coffee tomorrow. Cafe Noir on the Broad, 2 pm. Let me know if that works for you. Giulia*

*Giulia, I’ll meet you there. James*

She’d pondered over methods of contact: phone call, email, text, letter. In the end Lia decided that text was the least stressful form. After a nine word note on the back of a business card, James didn’t deserve more of her effort. 

She chose this coffee shop because it had outdoor seating. Though it had gotten cooler in the month since the party, it would be comfortable enough outside. And when James heard what she had to tell him, he’d want to smoke a whole pack of cigarettes. No need to make the man more miserable than necessary.

She stood by the coffee shop doorway, watching James stride down the street, his short blond hair catching the bright sun. He certainly dressed well, like a page out of GQ. That black topcoat was gorgeous and he wore it smartly, with the collar up. He threaded his way through the tables outside to meet her. 

“Hello Lia,” he said, with a nod. Tension seemed to run through him like an electrical current. She felt oddly responsible, as if she had advanced warning that an earthquake was going to happen under his feet and could do nothing except watch.

“Let’s get our coffee so we can talk,” she said, as they took their place in the queue. She noticed that James was clenching and unclenching his hands. His mind must have been working overtime to figure out why she’d asked for a meeting.

He insisted on paying and carrying both cups out to a sunny table. She pulled her coat around her. It was chilly, in spite of the sun. 

When they were settled, he asked, “What did you want to talk about?” 

There was no way to dress it up to be less jarring, so she just said it. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes grew a little wider and James opened his mouth and then closed it when apparently he couldn’t find any words to say. She had to give credit where it was due. No stupid questions such as “how did it happen?” or “are you sure?” No comments like “you’re kidding” or “but we used protection.” 

“I want to make one thing clear,” she said. “Termination is off the table.”

He nodded. “I understand.” The muscles in his jaw tensed and released as he seemed to struggle for control. Finally, he blurted out, “Do you want to get married?”

That struck her as so unbelievable, she started to laugh. “You can relax. My father does not own a shotgun and it’s not 1956.”

“I’m serious,” he said, quietly. Her laughter caught in her throat when she saw his face. He looked as if she’d slapped him. She took a sip of her coffee to gain a moment.

“We hardly know each other, James. You and I are not in love, and frankly, I want to be in love when I get married. We’re like two people at a bus stop who had a really great conversation, drank far too much alcohol and just happened to get on the same bus.”

He was so solemn, so different from the man who’d talked and laughed with her in the fairy lit garden. She remembered feeling out of place at the party. So many of the guests were Robbie and Laura’s coworkers, who all seemed to know one another. She’d wandered around the living room sipping her wine and listening on the fringes to gruesome discussions of either the medical or policing variety. 

The garden beyond the french doors looked inviting with the lanterns and fairy lights. As she stood on the edge of the garden, enjoying the scent of Laura’s late summer flowers, Lia had wondered how long she needed to stay to avoid hurt feelings. When James offered her his seat, it seemed the perfect way to while away the time before she could escape. 

His appearance was striking and he was so interesting and oddly charming in a self-deprecating way. She felt like she had known him far longer than one conversation. But one of the pitfalls of a “one night stand” was you didn’t really know who that person was in the daylight. After the incredibly awkward “morning after the night before” note, Lia hadn’t gotten in touch. 

He’d left his contact information, and obviously didn’t have hers which left the onus to call on her. She had really liked him, how well mannered he was, how fast and funny his comments were. She recognized the bedrock of decency in him. That must have been what allowed her to let down her defenses. 

His business card remained on her night table for weeks. She punched his number into her phone a number of times but could never quite hit the dial button. He seemed like a lovely guy, but the awkwardness of the situation kept her frozen.

But as she realized she was late and the nausea set in, ignoring the situation was no longer an option. She bought a pregnancy test and then three more, but they all delivered the same news. There were so many decisions to be made, and she didn’t believe they should all be hers. James needed to be told, so he could make his own choices.

Laura had seemed somewhat amused after the party, though she never said anything. She and Robbie knew James hadn’t come back to their house that night. And they probably noticed his car still parked nearby that next morning. But Laura wasn’t the type to comment on the actions of consenting adults.

Laura obviously thought James hung the moon, though. She would drop little mentions about James into conversation as she and Lia took their evening walks. Did James mention he went to Cambridge? And did Lia know James was a gifted musician? James probably hadn’t mentioned it, but management was encouraging him to go after promotion to inspector.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked, finally. She appreciated that he hadn’t asked her what *she* was going to do, but asked what he could do.

“I realize I’ve dropped a rather large bomb into your life,” Lia said. “I’ve had two weeks to get used to the idea and you’ve had a couple of minutes. At a bare minimum, I’d like help supporting the baby. Beyond that, you have to decide what relationship you want to have with this child. Why don’t you think about it and let me know.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that. So what happens next?”

“A lot depends on what you want. I have an appointment at the ante-natal clinic next Tuesday at 4:00. You could come along if you would like to. It’s up to you.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you if I can make it.”

Lia stood up. “Let me know,” she said. As she walked away, she realized that James had not pulled out a single cigarette during their conversation but she had no idea what that meant. Though tempted, she did not turn around to look for his narrow face and bright hair as she turned the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The genesis of this work is a story I heard many years ago about a friend of a friend--an established, well educated lawyer in his late 40s who got his similarly accomplished girlfriend pregnant. They got married, but faced a huge amount of teasing about their predicament. I thought it would be very interesting to picture how James Hathaway would handle this situation. 
> 
> I’ve played just a little with the season 7 and 8 timelines to get a longer period where Robbie and Laura live together while James is still a sergeant. Hope that isn’t too jarring.


	3. Life Doesn't Come Easy to Everyone, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I feel as if I’m outside my body, watching this happen to someone else,” James said, tossing his cigarette butt in the direction of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is complete. Chapters are posted as I finish edits

“Sir, would you mind if we walked a bit,” Hathaway said, lighting a cigarette. 

“Sure, Jim,” Lewis answered. “Let’s get lunch at the Head of the River.” They started down the path along the Thames. A few scant flakes of snow swirled around them, stirred by a brisk breeze. 

They had finished the last of the interviews that wrapped up a murder case. The prime suspect was in custody for another offense so they had a bit of breathing room before they charged him for the murder. The forensic report they had received that morning tied him pretty tightly to the crime. At this point all that was left to do was tie up the loose ends.

Hathaway could find no more excuses to delay the discussion.

“Something on your mind?” Lewis asked after they had walked a distance.

“There is,” Hathaway answered. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, not wanting to look Lewis in the eye. “It’s rather awkward, I’m afraid.”

“Well, awkward is your department. So what’s that big brain churning over?”

Hathaway took a deep drag on his cigarette and tried to frame his response. “Do you remember the night of your party?”

“Most of it. I have to admit some of it’s sketchy. I had a lot to drink that night. One thing I remember clearly is you and Giulia Ferrante arm in arm weaving your way down my street.”

“Even drunk off your arse, sir, you don’t miss much. I can’t think of a clever way to put this, so I’ll just say it. Lia is pregnant.”

Lewis snorted with laughter. “Oh, that’s rich! Were you not paying attention in your ‘Personal and Social Development’ classes or whatever they called it at your posh public school? Did you miss the part about what happens when you have unprotected sex?”

“It isn’t funny, sir.” Hathaway could feel the tips of his ears getting red and it wasn’t from the cold breeze off the water. 

“Sorry. It was wrong of me to laugh.” Robbie was struggling to keep the chuckle out of his voice, but had clearly lost the battle. “I’d ask how it happened, but I suspect I know.”

“It was that sweet spot, sir, between enough wine to remove inhibitions and impair judgement, but not quite enough to cause unconsciousness.” 

Hathaway still had no memory beyond Lia producing the condom packet. For all he knew, he fumbled it, or they lost it in the sheets. 

“You are about the least likely bloke I can think of to be in this situation. I guess you’re not the choirboy I thought you were. But look on the bright side--Lia is a lovely girl.” 

“She is,” James admitted. “The problem is, we hardly know each other.”

“That makes it harder, of course. But you’re not a couple of teenagers. You’re both educated and employed. You’ll do fine.”

“I wish I had your confidence. I fear I’m woefully unsuited to fatherhood.”

“For a bloody genius, Jim, you’re thick as a plank. None of us is suited to being parents. Maybe it comes natural to women. I thought it came easy to our Val but if I could ask her, I bet she’d laugh in my face. I know I was rubbish at it at least when they were babies.”

“I feel as if I’m outside my body, watching this happen to someone else,” James said, tossing his cigarette butt in the direction of the river. “I went with Lia to her first doctor appointment last week. She and the baby are healthy, by the way. The doctor said they would do an ultrasound in a few weeks and we could learn the gender. Later, Lia asked me if I wanted to find out and I didn’t have an answer. She said, ‘Damn it, James, you get a vote’. If I can’t form an opinion about an ultrasound, am I invested enough to be a father?”

“You’re overthinking this. It’s not a logic problem you can solve. It’s life!”

James laughed. “Life doesn’t come easy to everyone, sir. Lia told me I need to decide how involved I want to be with this child. And I want to be there for both Lia and the baby, but if history is any indication, I could screw this up royally.”

Robbie stopped and turned to Hathaway. “Lad, you set standards for yourself that no one can possibly meet and then beat yourself up when you fall short. This kid isn’t going to care that you’re the smartest or the hardest worker. Basically, you just have to show up. As often as you can. Warts and all. Kids are easy graders.”

James looked down at his feet. “I told Lia that I’d do my best.”

“That’s good,” Lewis said, slapping James on the shoulder. “Now get to know the kid’s mother and you’ll be all set. Granted, most people do that part first, but you’re not like most people.”

James gave him what he hoped was a withering glance. “We’re talking. Had dinner a few times.” 

They began the process of getting to know each other. Lia talked about her family, and the home renovation business her grandfather had started upon coming to the United Kingdom. They specialized in custom cabinetry and brickwork. Lia explained that she bought the house around the corner from Laura on the cheap because it had been badly neglected and how her father had renovated it. “You know that saying about the shoemaker’s children going barefoot?” she’d asked him. “What they don’t tell you is that when the shoemaker gets the business up and running, he makes the children some really good shoes.”

The less said about the Hathaway clan, the better, as far as James was concerned, so he kept the facts as limited as possible. His mother had passed away years ago and he didn’t see his father and sister as often as he should. He didn’t tell Lia that “never” described the actual frequency of visits.

He assumed Lia was more honest about her life story, because generally people didn’t shroud their lives in silence. Most people probably didn’t need to. Lia told him about her teenage goth rebellion period when to her parent’s horror she dyed her hair jet black and went through a black eyeliner a month. She told him about the boyfriend of five years that she thought was the one but who ended up getting engaged to his boss’s sister. 

James told Lia about the seminary, but the “why I left the priesthood” story he shared was the frivolous fish pie one and the childhood picture he painted was cowboys and Knights of the Round Table with the kids on the estate. He didn’t know if he could ever voluntarily tell Lia or anyone else the unvarnished truth. If circumstances hadn’t torn those periods of his life wide open for everyone to see, he was quite sure he would have kept the truth inside even unto the grave.

The one subject he’d been relatively truthful about was work. James told her how much the work seemed to weigh on him, how he seemed to have one foot out the door. He told her that he had his resignation papers partly filled out and that only his admiration of Lewis kept the papers in his desk drawer for now. When and if Lewis retired, he would most likely turn them in.

“This could be good for you, Jim,” Lewis said. “Take you out of yourself a bit.”

James didn’t know if he agreed with that. He had to admit that Lia was easy to be around, which was good since he himself was incredibly difficult to be around. Maybe it was her training in speech therapy, or years spent helping people communicate better but she had the ability to draw him out. Not too much. Not past the point of pain. Just a gentle little bit.

He never would have gone past that one night if it hadn’t been for the pregnancy. Given his pathetic romantic history, he would have filed the evening under “really good memories” and kept moving. Hathaway realized he would have missed something good if he hadn’t gotten to know Lia.

“I’m going to take a lot of abuse when this gets around the station, aren’t I, sir?” Hathaway asked.

“Oh yeah.” Robbie was back to chuckling. “So did you decide about learning the gender?”

“We decided between us to table the discussion until the ultrasound. Let tomorrow worry about itself.”


	4. James, the Earth Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Around the nick, they think Hathaway is some kind of being from another planet. Once he gets past the baiting, things might be easier for him with his workmates. There’ll be a common frame of reference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try posting one chapter per day. The story is finished, but I'm such a ruthless tinkerer, I think it's better for my sanity if I just release it into the wild.

“Cut them smaller, Robbie” Laura said. “Those carrots look a bit plank-like.”

“I don’t have your talent for slicing and dicing.” Robbie looked down at the salad. She was right. The carrots were too big. He took them out of the bowl and cut them smaller. 

Laura opened the oven and tested a piece of chicken for doneness. “What time did you tell them?”

“Seven. Thought we could have a drink before dinner. Poor Hathaway,” Lewis said. “He’s been getting a right thumping at the station over the pregnancy. It’s been glorious.”

“Robbie! That’s not kind, is it?”

The secret had stayed under tight wraps for several months and would have gone longer if Sergeant Bledsoe hadn’t spotted James and an obviously pregnant Lia shopping for baby furniture. According to Bledsoe, they looked “rather couple-ish.” Just as Hathaway had predicted, once the news of the pregnancy got around the office, the teasing began. 

“Lots of comments about shotgun weddings and the like around the nick. Even Jean Innocent had a smile when she heard,” Lewis said. “I haven’t seen Jim blush so much since he stumbled onto a sex website doing research at work. But I think it might be a good thing that this got around.”

Laura took the roasted potatoes out of the oven and gave them a turn with the spatula. “He’s such a private person. This must be excruciating for him. How do you figure this will be good?”

“Around the nick, they think Hathaway is some kind of being from another planet. Once he gets past the baiting, things might be easier for him with his workmates. There’ll be a common frame of reference. He doesn’t pay attention to sport, doesn’t watch the telly. People never know what to say to him. Now they’ll ask ’how is the baby?’ or ‘are ya getting much sleep these days?’ that kind of thing. This pregnancy might help them realize he’s an earth boy after all.”

Robbie finished the salad, covered it with cling film and stashed it in the refrigerator. “I can’t get a bead on those two. Do you get anything from Lia on your walks?”

“I’ve heard plenty about the color scheme for the nursery. She’s down to two combinations: yellow and gray or aqua and brown. But not a dark brown--more like a warm, toasty brown. And let’s see - they both opted to go old school and wait until the birth to find out what they’re having. They’re referring to the baby as “Izzy” now, as in “Is he?” But about James, personally? Next to nothing. She never says anything negative, but I wouldn’t expect her to.”

“Hathaway keeps his cards pretty close to his chest on general principles. We talked about the pregnancy months ago, but he’s been quiet on the subject since.”

“I just remembered something,” Laura said. “A couple of weeks ago she asked me how dangerous his job was. James had gotten a scrape on his cheek when he scuffled with that suspect in Summertown. I think maybe she’s worried about him.”

“That could be tricky. It’s not like she made a choice to get involved with a cop. Back when I was a sergeant, our Val was in a police wives support group. I guess it’s police spouses now. I don’t know if Val was looking for support, or trying to give it, but I remember she said some women just weren’t cut out to deal with a husband who was a cop. They couldn’t handle the panic when the phone rang or the fear that it was the police chaplain knocking on the door. Some marriages didn’t make it.”

“It’s hard,” Laura admitted. “I’ll be honest. I struggle with it myself when you’re late coming home.”

“And we see so much terrible stuff. Stuff you can’t stop seeing when you close your eyes at night. It bothers some more than others. It bothers James a lot. I worry about him,” Robbie said. 

“You care about him. He needs somebody to care.”

“A couple of years ago, I told him he needed someone in his life. He got really quiet after I said that. I thought afterwards maybe it had been a cruel thing to say. What if he never found a partner? Not everyone does. It’s luck more than anything else.”

“Well, he has to live his life on his own terms. I know James will do the right thing for the baby. I just hope he can develop a good working relationship with Lia.”

They were putting the finishing touches on dinner when the doorbell rang. Their guests were casually dressed, James in cargo trousers and a turtleneck, Lia in leggings and a long tunic that showed her baby bump. She was around five months along now and the term “glowing” really did apply in her case. 

Robbie got them drinks, orange juice for Lia and wine for everyone else. Laura brought over some snacks and they sat: Lia and James on the sofa, Robbie sat in the arm chair, Laura perched next to him on the arm rest. 

“How are the preparations going?” Laura asked.

“We picked out a crib and a dresser,” Lia said. Robbie and Laura exchanged a look. Hathaway coughed and looked miserable.

“What?” Lia asked, looking at each of the three others.

“It’s nothing,” Hathaway said. 

“Well, it’s obviously something,” Lia returned.

“Someone from the station saw us that day,” James explained, with a sigh. “I hadn’t told anyone at work except Robbie. Once the news hit....”

“There has been some gentle ribbing going on,” Robbie offered. “All in good fun.”

“I think the good fun is questionable,” Hathaway grumbled.

Lia leveled a look at James that must have sent a shiver down his spine. 

“You had the luxury of keeping this to yourself for a good long time. Be happy about that. Between the morning sickness, which by the way is all day sickness and this,” she placed a hand on her rounded abdomen, “my secret was out of the bag pretty early.” 

“I apologize,” Hathaway said, his voice low. “I never gave it a thought.”

“It’s all right, James. I didn’t consider it an embarrassment.”

Hathaway turned to face her, and covered her hand with his. “I don’t consider it an embarrassment,” he said. “Not at all. Unfortunately, my coworkers have enjoyed taking me down a peg. They are somewhat less refined than yours seem to be.”

“Considerably less refined,” Robbie asserted. “The needling has been impressive.”

“You poor thing,” Lia said, wryly. “In contrast, my coworkers are planning a baby shower. Instead of needling, I’ll be getting soft toys, baby blankets and sweet little onesies.”

“I hope you get some nappies. You’re going to need a lot of them,” Robbie said. “And make sure Hathaway does most of the changes.”


	5. One Step Forward, One Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With James, it seemed to be one step forward, one step back which amounted to marching in place. Here they were six weeks from her due date and things felt as uncertain as ever. But, she’d told him that beyond the financial, she would make no demands. He was so obviously trying to do the right thing. She would not push him past what he could handle.

“Needs a bit more paint to the right,” Lia said from the rocking chair by the door of the nursery. 

James pointed to the spot he thought she meant. He was so tall, he hardly needed to go beyond the first few rungs of the ladder on which he stood. “Here?” 

“A couple of inches above your hand.” He brushed some aqua paint over the wall. “You got it,” she said.

Robbie had helped with the painting earlier during the day but had left to clean up in time for a concert he and Laura were attending. In the middle of her third trimester, Lia was now large enough to be clumsy, so she sat in the new rocking chair and supervised. James stepped down from the ladder and began to tidy up. He pulled off the bandana that she’d tied over his head “street gang” style to protect his close cropped hair from paint. 

“Okay if I shower here?” James asked after he’d hammered the lid onto the paint can. “I don’t want to drive home looking like this.”

How very odd, Lia thought. They were having a child together and James felt that he needed to ask permission to shower at her house. Where he was painting his child’s nursery. 

“For pity’s sake, James, you don’t have to ask. It’s not like it’s the first time.” 

No, the first time he showered at her house, months ago, they had just had sex for the second time, the first time with both of them sober. They had been in their “getting to know you” phase. Lia had cooked dinner, pasta puttanesca, tossed together while James sat on a stool in the kitchen and watched. In solidarity with a pregnant Lia, James drank squash that night. 

After dinner, they watched Rear Window, a movie they both loved. When Lia’s favorite scene came on, she cheered at Grace Kelly pulling a peignoir set out of her tiny handbag. James laughed at her and when she looked up at him, he kissed her. As he pulled away, James seemed as surprised as she was. Wanting to ease any embarrassment he might have at his impulsive act, she leaned over and kissed him back. 

By the time Raymond Burr was trying to push Jimmy Stewart out a window, James and Lia were no longer watching the movie and he had pulled her onto his lap. Lia touched the pulse at his throat. “Your heart is racing,” she said. He tilted his head and gave her a tight smile.

“It’s a bit ridiculous, considering our current situation but I actually haven’t had a lot of experience. What with the seminary, I missed some of those prime youthful indiscretion years.”

“We can take it slow. After all, we do want to get to know one another,” she said. 

“Is this all right?” he asked when they’d gone to her bedroom. He had begun to unbutton her blouse. “I mean, it won’t hurt the baby?”

“James, you sat next to me when the doctor said intercourse was safe. I saw you write it down in that damn notebook of yours. I remember wondering if you were in the habit of taking notes from work, or if you were jotting it down for future reference.” 

They helped each other out of their clothes and she saw him clearly for the first time. The night of the party had been boozy and frantic, things moving too fast. Now she could see he was beautifully made, all pale skin stretched over muscle and tendon and bone, strong and lithe. Fine blond hair on his arms and chest caught the lamp light. 

She wondered what he thought of her. She’d been in her third month that night, still slim in most places except for the fullness of her breasts and the roundness where the baby was just starting to show. “You’re beautiful,” he said, so soft, it was almost a whisper.

He cupped her breasts and she let out a little gasp. “They’re tender,” she told him with a huff of a laugh. “But please don’t stop.”

They took it slow as she had promised. Slow and gentle this time, each movement deliberate at least to begin with, so different from the first time. Then of course, ancient instinct took over as it always does. They rocked together, Lia on top, her breasts bouncing a little with each movement. She couldn’t last long, the sensations of him inside her were just too strong. He followed her into climax, exclaiming wordlessly and wrapping his long arms around her to hold her close.

She stretched out alongside him in the aftermath, her fingers tracing along his clavicle. “So, is the old trope correct? Do you crave a cigarette after sex?”

“With every fiber of my being,” he answered with a chuckle. 

“Where are they?” she asked as she slid her legs over the side of the bed. “Trousers?” 

At his nod, she padded naked across the room and found the cigarette pack and lighter in the front pocket of his suit trousers. She walked over to her dressing table and emptied the saucer in which she kept odds and ends, the coins and rings and bracelets clinking on the wood.

“Consider this a one time only special dispensation of the “no cigarettes in the house” rule,” she said, dropping the items into his open hands. 

“I don’t have words to describe how much this means to me,” he said, lighting a cigarette. He drew the smoke in, held it before finally releasing it in a long stream. His expression was utter rapture. “I won’t forget this for as long as I live.”

“It goes without saying, we’re going to need some ironclad rules around cigarettes when the baby comes. Only outside and never around Izzy.” 

“Absolutely. I’ve tried to quit before. I’m hoping this will finally push me to do it for good.”

She’d thought James would stay that night, but after his shower, he dressed and went back to his apartment. He reminded her of a wild creature, drawing close to the scents and sounds of people, but never allowing himself to enter the encampment. 

He was trying, though. James went to as many doctor appointments as his long work hours allowed. He shopped with her for car seats (one for each car) and an incredibly expensive stroller. And of course, they shopped for the baby furniture that would ultimately blow his cover at work.

To his credit, James tried to incorporate her into his life. He invited her to hear his band play at a local club and introduced her to his band mates. And at Robbie’s suggestion, he invited Lia to a work gathering at a pub near the station. She was quite sure he would have skipped it if he’d been on his own. Apparently, Robbie had been correct. Once they met Lia, his workmates eased off on baiting James. 

He even dutifully met her parents, which he later described as the most nerve-wracking meal of his life. Her father was protective and old-fashioned. He glowered at James during dinner. No matter how Lia had explained that it was her choice not to get married, James Hathaway would remain the man who impregnated his daughter and didn’t make an honest woman of her. 

With James, it seemed to be one step forward, one step back which amounted to marching in place. Here they were six weeks from her due date and things felt as uncertain as ever. But, she’d told him that beyond the financial, she would make no demands. He was so obviously trying to do the right thing. She would not push him past what he could handle.

“Lia!” James called from the bathroom. She leveraged herself out of the rocking chair and went to find him. Knocking on the door, she pushed it open. 

“James? I’m coming in. Did you get soap in your eyes?” 

The air was steamy and fragrant with the scent of shampoo and soap. James had a towel around his waist. The skin on his arms and neck was scrubbed red in his attempt to remove the aqua paint where his t-shirt had not protected him. 

“No, I’ve got paint in my ear.”

“Here, sit down,” she said, pointing to the edge of the tub. “How on earth did you do that?” 

“My ear must have been itchy. Can you get it out? I can’t see to do it myself.” 

He handed her the rough scrap of towel that he’d used to scrub the paint from his skin. Stepping as close as her belly allowed she worked to get the paint out of the swirl of his ear. His wet skin dampened her top as she pressed up against him.

“Ouch!”

“Do you want to walk around with an aqua blue ear or what?” Unable to resist, she stroked her hand over his velvety hair. “There, I think that does it.” 

He rested his face against her belly, as he wrapped his arms around her. “I can feel Izzy moving.” His deep voice vibrated through her. 

“This is nice,” she said, cradling the back of his neck. 

His hand slid down to squeeze her bottom. “Is it still safe, do you think?” he asked, looking up at her. 

“Check your notes,” she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: For the unfamiliar, Rear Window is an amazing Alfred Hitchcock film from 1954 starring the wonderful Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly (arguably the most beautiful human to have walked among us) before she became Princess Grace of Monaco. Also, Raymond Burr, best known as Perry Mason as a bad guy. Below is a trailer to tempt you to watch the movie. Perfect for quarantine watching, as Jimmy Stewart’s character is confined to a wheelchair temporarily due to an injury and amuses himself looking out the window at his neighbors. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kCcZCMYw38


	6. We’re in a Hospital, After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi Lia, it’s Robbie Lewis.” His words may have been innocuous, but something felt wrong. She immediately knew this had to be the voice Robbie used to deliver bad news. Otherwise, why would he be calling at 2:00 pm on a workday.

“Hi Lia, it’s Robbie Lewis.” His words may have been innocuous, but something felt wrong. She immediately knew this had to be the voice Robbie used to deliver bad news. Otherwise, why would he be calling at 2:00 pm on a workday.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Has something happened to James?”

“He’s fine, but he did have a spill on some stairs. He was unconscious for around ten minutes and he jammed his hand pretty badly, but he’s awake now.”

“Ten minutes,” she said. “Unconscious for ten minutes.” It felt like she’d been hit with ice water. 

“Lia, I’m sending a PC to bring you to the hospital. James is quite coherent and told me that your doctor said no more driving. See, everything will be fine, I promise. They want to keep him here overnight, so can you bring a change of clothes and whatever else he needs?” 

“Yes,” was all she could manage. Surely if he had lost consciousness, he must have been concussed. What were the long range effects of concussion? She tried to remember everything she’d ever read about it. She heard a familiar voice in the background talking to Robbie.

“Lia, James says to stay calm, he’s fine. He needs his glasses and would like his iPod. Don’t bother with a book, they won’t let him read. He said to let the PC carry the bag, he’s afraid you’ll go into labor….Jim, will you stop fussing. Listen pet, the PC should be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay. I better go, then.” She clicked off the call and began the long, slow trip up the stairs. With ten days to her due date, everything was long and slow and often with a little rest in the middle. James was staying at her house, at least temporarily. She was glad not to be alone when she felt so unwieldy and vulnerable. 

She found his leather holdall and filled it with clothes and underwear from the pile of clean laundry. His glasses were in their case on the nightstand and she tucked them in the bag with the iPod and his toothbrush. Earbuds! He’d need those, wouldn’t he? What about a comb? Did he even use a comb or was his hair too short?

The doorbell saved her from any further rambling. Slinging the holdall over her shoulder, she spotted her own bag, packed for Izzy’s eventual delivery. When she’d packed it, she imagined James carrying it down the stairs, an arm around her as they left for the hospital. It frightened her now to think that he could have been badly hurt or even died today. People broke their necks and died on falls down stairs, didn’t they. 

At the foot of the stairs, she was forced to wait out a cramp in her belly. She’d been plagued for days with annoying Braxton Hicks contractions. If fake contractions were this uncomfortable, what did she have to look forward to with the real ones? 

“Hello Mrs. Hathaway,” said the fresh faced young woman constable on her doorstep as she extended her open hand. “I’m under strict orders not to let you carry that bag.”

“Actually. it’s Ms. Ferrante,” Lia said, handing off the bag. “Let’s go, then.” 

“I don’t know if you remember--we met a few months ago at the work do at the Turf. We were all surprised by that little turn of events, let me tell you. But definitely chuffed, of course. Imagine, Sergeant Hathaway, a father. I’m PC Newling, by the way.”

PC Newling kept up a running commentary all the way to the John Radcliff. The PC pulled into one of the spots reserved for police vehicles and they walked in. 

“Name please,” the woman at the reception desk asked.

“James Hathaway.” 

“Mrs Hathaway, I don’t see a reservation at the Women’s Centre for you.”

“No, I’m looking for James Hathaway. I am booked here for delivery under Ferrante, but right now I’m here to see a patient.”

“Oh dear. So sorry for the confusion. Mr. Hathaway is in room C312. Let me show you how to get there on our little diagram.”

With PC Newling doggedly at her side, Lia walked slowly through the hospital halls, arriving finally at C312. 

James' eyes were closed when she came into the room. Robbie rose from the chair, putting aside the newspaper that he’d had on his lap. He put an arm around Lia’s shoulder. “He’s been in and out,” he said in a low voice. “Doctor was just by. He’s going to be fine.”

“But what happened?” Lia asked softly as she reached the bed. James had a bruise on his forehead, a couple of stitches in his eyebrow and a complicated-looking brace on his left hand which looked swollen and purplish.

“We went to arrest a suspect who panicked and made for the stairs. Jim tried to stop him and they both tumbled. The suspect got the worst of it and broke his leg.”

PC Newling set the holdall on a small table by the door. “I better get back to the station,” she whispered. “Hope Sergeant Hathaway feels better and all goes well with the baby.” 

James moved in the bed, opening eyes that seemed unfocused. He tried to lift his head and moaned. 

“You’ll do anything to avoid changing nappies, won’t you,” she said, softly as she touched his arm.

“It’s nothing,” James said, his voice tight with pain. “I’ll be out of here in the morning”

“What happened to your hand? Is it broken?” James squeezed his eyes shut in a wince.

“He slammed it into the wall on the way down. They said he tore some ligaments in the wrist and broke two fingers,” Robbie said, obviously reciting what the doctor had told them. “They may eventually need to put a cast on, but the swelling needs to come down first.”

Another cramp hit and Lia gripped the side rail of the bed. This one was a little stronger. She had to breathe through it. 

“You okay, Lia?” Robbie asked. “Why don’t you sit here.” He pushed the chair closer to the bed. Lia gratefully sank into it. He showed her the lever that reclined it a bit and brought the footrest up.

“I’m fine. Just this damn false labor. It’s been on and off for days. I’m going to stay for awhile if you need to get back to work, Robbie.” 

“You should be home,” James said. “It can’t be very comfortable for you here.”

“The term ‘comfortable’ has lost all meaning for me these days. And I want to stay.” 

“I probably should get back to the office,” Robbie said. “That little arse over tip tumble is going to generate a ream of paperwork. And you, conveniently out of commission.”

“Sorry, sir. I feel that I’ve really let you down.” Lia smiled at his delivery of the line. Even in pain, James did snark very well. “What about the suspect?”

“He’s in surgery for the leg. I won’t be able to interview him until this evening at the earliest.”

Robbie left with strict orders for Lia to call if they needed anything. Lia pulled her phone out, ostensibly to read the news and check Twitter, but her real reason was to keep an eye on the time. 

The contractions were now beginning to show up on more of a schedule. It was currently every fifteen minutes, which she knew from the birthing classes was far from urgent. As James drifted in and out of sleep, it was easy for her to keep the situation to herself. He didn’t need to worry about something that for now was a blip on the horizon.

A couple of hours later, a nurse came in to check James’ vitals and deliver pain meds. She looked at Lia, stretched out with her feet up, one hand on her belly. “How are you doing? Anything I can get for you? I’m Barbara, by the way.” 

“Lia Ferrante,” she said. “And I’m fine, thanks, Barbara.” Lia shifted in the chair. Her back hurt a bit. 

“You both must be so excited. When are you due?”

“In ten days.” Lia froze while another contraction tightened across her belly. This one hurt enough to take her breath away. James rose up on his uninjured arm, damaged hand held against his chest and shot her a look of concern. Barbara came over and crouched down next to Lia. 

“How far apart are the contractions?” 

“They were every fifteen minutes for the last couple of hours, moving down to twelve minutes now. I’d been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a few days, but fairly mild and not consistent. These are stronger.”

“When were you going to tell me?” James asked, an edge to his voice. 

“When you weren’t in misery!” she bit out. “Between the headache and your hand, you had enough to deal with without this too. It was better for you to sleep.”

“Relax, everyone,” Barbara said. “There is plenty of time. Lia, keep track of the contractions and I’ll make some phone calls. Who is your doctor?”

“Ruhi Ara. I’m booked in at the Women’s Centre.”

“That’s good. If the contractions get to five minutes before I get back, hit the call button. And you, sir, please remain calm! We’re in a hospital, after all. We can handle this.”

Barbara left and Lia found she could no longer comfortably sit. She began to move around the room, ending up at James’ side. “How’s the head?” she asked. “And the hand?” 

“Both are throbbing, nicely, thanks. The pills are starting to kick in.” He sighed. “I’m afraid this might have put you in labor.”

“Dr. Ara said it could any time when I saw her last week. It wasn’t this.” She took his good hand. It felt warm and strong. “Can you call Robbie and Laura? Have them get my bag up in the bedroom.”

She realized he couldn’t manage the phone. Retrieving it from the bed table, she scrolled down to Robbie’s name, hit dial and handed it to him. “Robbie, we have a bit of a situation,” James started. 

As he filled in Lewis, Lia walked around the room, stopping here and there to hang onto the back of a chair, the end of the bed, the wall. The pressure was becoming uncomfortable. It felt rather like the baby was going to drop out at any moment. She moaned at a particularly strong contraction. 

“Are you all right?” James asked, holding the phone against his chest. He had just the hint of panic in his voice. “How far apart from the last one?”

“Ten minutes,” she gasped. As the pain began to let up she continued. “They don’t need to rush. This is going to take a while.” 

“It’s a green bag by the door in the bedroom.” James said. “I’m not sure how this is all going to go down. The nurse is trying to sort it all out. We’ll let you know as soon as we have details.”

She made another circuit around the room, and was standing by the bed when Barbara came in pushing a wheelchair. 

“I got in touch with Dr. Ara and informed her of the situation. They have a spot in the birthing center for you. And I’ve talked to your doctor, Mr. Hathaway. He said you need to stay in bed for a few more hours but the bed can be located in the birthing center. If you’re doing well, he’ll let you get up for the birth.”

An hour later, Lia and James were in the birthing center with James’ bed squeezed into the room. Laura and Robbie had come to the hospital with Lia’s bag and Laura had decided to stay for a while as James was under strict orders not to get out of bed. 

Lia’s contractions were now just under five minutes apart. Dr. Ara had been by to examine her and declared Lia four centimeters dilated. 

“Mr. Hathaway, you are a trendsetter,” the doctor had declared upon entering the room. “Our first male patient here in the Women’s Centre. We have had a few fathers pass out in the birthing room, and one hit his head and required stitches, but you’re the first father I can remember who came into our unit as an official patient.”

For the next hour, the contractions came faster and harder, with no time to recover between them. Lia thought that it might have actually been harder for James to have to lie there and hear her groan and curse (sometimes at him) while Laura rubbed her back and talked to her. He must have felt helpless. 

A birthing nurse, Sharon, by the name on her badge, came in to check Lia’s progress. How amazing that so many people would be fiddling around down there and she wouldn’t blink an eye. She’d spread her legs in the middle of the Broad to get this over with. 

“Congratulations, Lia. You’re completely effaced.” She pulled off her gloves, flipped the sheet back in place and went over to James. “I talked to your doctor and he said that if your pupils looked good, you could get up.” 

She pulled out a penlight which she shined into each of his eyes. “Very good. You pass the pupil test! How is the headache?”

“It’s definitely present, but manageable. Please--I really want to be up for this.”

“Your wish is granted, but you need to let us know if you feel at all dizzy or faint or if the pain gets worse.”

James seemed steady when he was finally vertical, a head taller than anyone else in the room. Lia registered the fact that at some point he must have been given pajama bottoms and a sling to keep his hand immobilized against his chest. 

“It’s time to get this show on the road,” Sharon said as she took up her position supporting Lia on one side. James stood on the other, his good hand locked around Lia’s. Laura was beside him, her arm around his waist in case he wavered. 

“Hold on, there, James,” Laura said. “If you go down, you’ll be like a giant sequoia and I don’t know if I can catch you.”

Later, the thing Lia remembered most about the birth process was the overwhelming physical imperative to push and the voices encouraging her: “Big push now! Good job! Wait, wait. Hold on. Go ahead, one more big one!”

“You have a little girl!” Dr. Ara exclaimed finally. In a few seconds, the baby’s cries filled the room. A wet and slippery looking creature was held aloft, little face scrunched up as if very displeased to be out in the cold harsh world. Sharon cleaned the baby, drying her skin which apparently was more proof to the child that this was not a promising place to be.

The baby was placed on Lia’s chest, against her skin. James hitched a hip onto the edge of the bed and reached out to touch his child. His hand looked so large and pale against the baby’s reddened skin. When Lia looked up at him, she saw tears in his eyes. 

“What are you going to name her?” Laura asked. 

“Grace,” James said. “We decided on Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m working on a “missing scene” story that starts with the arrest that goes bad ending with the call Robbie makes to Lia. Should be out shortly after the story is completely posted. 
> 
> Also, I used the Centre spelling for the Women’s Centre because my research into the maternity program at the John Radcliff had that spelling, presumably what the sign says over the front door, so I kept that. But I’ve stuck with American spelling otherwise, so you’ll also see center. Hope it’s not too confusing.


	7. Still Two People on a Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hathaway looked back, he realized there was no single cause that had sent his life into this tailspin. It was actually a series of interlocking events that resulted in his being alone in a cavernous apartment. Thinking about “if only” was a pointless activity so he avoided it as much as possible.

As Hathaway looked back, he realized there was no single cause that had sent his life into this tailspin. It was actually a series of interlocking events that resulted in his being alone in a cavernous apartment. Thinking about “if only” was a pointless activity so he avoided it as much as possible. 

But if only he hadn’t gotten hurt the day Grace was born, things might have turned out differently. If he’d been able to take care of Lia and Grace on his own, perhaps it would have worked out. But he’d been unsteady on his feet and unable to focus his eyes well enough to read for nearly a week, and his hand and wrist would take six weeks to get back to normal. He couldn’t lift his eight pound daughter, couldn’t carry her safely with one hand. Lia’s mother and father had to step in and help. 

Not that they had been harsh. Not even Enzo Ferrante, who had scowled at James for most of Lia’s pregnancy. Lia’s dad helped Hathaway get around in the first few days after he and Lia came home from the hospital. Enzo had driven him to his doctor and physio appointments and had been encouraging throughout the process. Apparently, James being a police officer hurt in the line of duty had won Enzo over.

Lia had told him a while ago that her mother loved everyone and James could not disagree. The woman had taken it as a personal challenge as an Italian woman to “put some meat on his bones.” Rosemary would carefully lay Grace into the crook of his uninjured arm and beam down at them radiating pure kindness. “Oh look, Gracie’s smiling at her daddy.” 

Being around people who laughed and talked and didn’t fall into chilly silence was so much harder than he’d imagined. He watched his daughter being passed from one to another in love. The Ferrantes were a harmonious musical piece and he was a discordant note. When James was a child, there was a song on the telly, “one of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn’t belong.” He didn’t belong. 

The thought of leaving Lia and Grace was wrenching, but the dissonance of being where he didn’t belong was even more so. He had stupidly thought the pain would eventually stop if he moved out, as it did when a bandage was pulled from a wound. Sharp pain in the short term, of course, but eventual numbness. But this constant gnawing in his gut never let up, as if he was always starving. 

Lia cried when he packed his things which he attributed to the flood of hormones in the new mother. Surely, he thought, she must realize she was better off without him. Lia was such an intelligent and perceptive woman. Surely she knew he would fail her. 

He hadn’t actually brought much when he moved in during those last weeks of the pregnancy. A suitcase of clothes, a holdall for the odds and ends and his beloved guitar. The return would have taken one trip out to the car if he had been able to use both hands. 

He hadn’t been cleared for driving, but he managed one handed because he didn’t want to call Robbie for a ride. When he told Lewis that he’d moved back to his apartment, his boss didn’t raise his voice, which James had been prepared for. No, Lewis had been puzzled and disappointed which was glaringly apparent even though he said nothing. If Laura was disappointed in James, she hid it well. She was as kind and lovely as she had always been. Maybe she had seen this coming.

Grace Hathaway’s christening, which occurred two weeks after he moved out, was a tense event indeed. They baptised her in the Ferrante’s Roman Catholic parish. Lia’s parents and siblings and their families were pleasant if a little boisterous. Robbie and Laura were Hathaway’s only contribution to the guest list. He did not invite his family. 

The second and third parts of James’ downfall were tightly linked. Hathaway had succumbed to the dual voices of Robbie Lewis and Jean Innocent telling him he needed to apply for promotion. That he had a dependent now and needed to advance at something he was so good at. Against what his heart was telling him about police work and his own personality, he listened to his head that said get the raise, get the advancement and provide for your child.

And then Lewis retired. That hit Hathaway like a blow he thought he’d prepared for, but that hurt so much more than he could have imagined. 

Hathaway had always intended to resign when Robbie retired, but that had been when he was a free agent and could take a low paying research job in a subject that interested him. On his own, he would have willingly moved into a bedsit and lived on beans on toast. But now he needed to think of Grace and her future. 

He missed Lewis at work as he would one of his limbs. He’d always relied on Lewis to make sense for him of a job that started out dark and only got darker. Seeing Robbie and Laura socially was a balm but did not get anywhere near the source of his pain. 

With Hathaway’s promotion, he was assigned the first of several sergeants. Inspector training concentrated on procedure, legalities and responsibilities. It had not helped him when it came to relating to subordinates. There was no practical training on how to motivate people or to keep them from jumping off a bridge at the end of a bad case. Robbie knew how to do that, but Hathaway was pretty sure he had that quality within him from the day he was born. How could James keep his sergeant’s spirits up, if he himself was hanging by a hair's breadth.

So maybe if any one of those things hadn’t happened, he might have been able to climb out of the mess he made of his life and relationships. But taken together, they saw him hollowed out, a husk in a nice suit. Hathaway’s life shrunk down to work and Grace.

He tried to see his daughter every day. Lia made that work. If she’d made it hard for him, he knew he would have given up at this point in his life. Lia had every reason to turn him away from the door. Instead, she gave him a house key.

It was impractical to bring such a young baby to his apartment. When his lease was up he moved to a larger place with insanely high ceilings that caused sound to ricochet in an eerie way. It had a second bedroom that he told himself he would fix up for his daughter when she was older. At this point, it was filled with boxes he hadn’t gotten around to unpacking.

Being at Lia’s house was bittersweet for him. Her parents were there far less often than they had been right after Grace’s birth. They now lived part of the year in Tuscany. Most of the time, it was just Lia and Gracie when he got to the house.

Often he came early in the morning, before work could hijack his day. He’d feed Gracie mashed banana or stewed apple while Lia made coffee. Occasionally he would arrive at the station to find a clump of fruit in his hair. Lia would cook breakfast for both of them, often it was the only food he consumed all day.

The best times were when he was able to leave work in time for the evening routine. He’d roll up his sleeves, tuck his tie into his shirt and bathe Gracie. Most of the time he was drenched by the end. When she was tucked up in her pajamas, James would sing to her, songs remembered from childhood, hymns he’d sung in the seminary, Beatles songs, Motown. Gracie was not discriminating. 

Time with Gracie was the only joy he had in his life now. His hours at work were far longer since his promotion, but that was his fault. Without Lewis’ stabilizing influence, anxiety propelled Hathaway to keep all the assignments clutched tightly to himself as if handing one off to his sergeant would allow it to fall. The weight of responsibility was crushing him, and he couldn’t breathe from the pressure. He barely ate or slept and he drank far more than was good for him.

His first sergeant lasted three weeks before asking to move to another team. The second one bailed after two weeks. His third and last sergeant was talking about leaving when Jean Innocent decided an intervention was required. It would have been a shame to lose Lizzie Maddox, though Hathaway couldn’t quite see it at the time. He was still buried underneath the weight of it all.

When Lewis came back, it felt like an indictment of Hathaway’s incompetence. He wasn’t able to enjoy the very thing he’d pined for. But no one could resist Robbie Lewis’ patented mix of common decency, gentle humor and no nonsense advice. It hadn’t taken long before Hathaway relaxed and learned to trust Maddox. She in turn warmed to Hathaway just a little and to Lewis quite a lot. 

When his life stabilized a little, he could finally think more clearly about his situation. Sadly, he was pretty sure he’d burned his bridges with Lia. She still asked no more of him than he could give, but he wondered how long she would be able to do that before she looked for someone who could be a true partner. 

One afternoon they had a lull in the middle of the day and Robbie had suggested he take advantage of it and see his daughter. Hathaway arrived to find Lia walking down the driveway pushing Gracie in the stroller. 

“I should have called first,” he said, trying to keep disappointment out of his voice.

“We’re just walking down to the park. She’s been fussy all day. I think she may be teething. I’m hoping this will settle her down. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Thank you. I’d like that,” he replied. “Do you remember when we picked out this pram? The sales person described it as the Porsche of carriages.” 

“And it has a lovely zippered pouch for stashing stinky nappies. Porsche doesn’t have that,” Lia laughed. She was quiet for a moment, looking up at him as they walked. “Not to change the subject, but how are you, James?”

“What is that phrase they use in hospital? ‘As well as can be expected.’ I guess that describes me fairly accurately.”

“You deserve more than that,” she said, softly. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m not sure I have the capacity for happiness.” 

“Doesn’t everyone have that capacity? It’s not a right bestowed on a favored few.”

“I seem to fail at it regularly. You once described us as two people who met at a bus stop and just happened to get on the same bus. I wish we could be more than that. But I’m afraid I’m just not capable of being more. Where does that leave us?”

“Still two people on the bus, I’d say. But I think of us more as two people who have a baby in a car seat and one of us takes care of the baby and the other one drives the bus and we trade off as needed.”

“Is that enough?” 

“It will have to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Coming down the home stretch. Sorry this was a bit of a downer, but hold on! Two more chapters, and a missing scene and we're done. 
> 
> By the way, I chose the name Grace because at least here in the US, it was a common name in Italian families and I thought it would appeal to James’ religious side. But mainly it was because I had a little scene in my head that unfortunately didn’t fit in with this rather dark chapter from Hathaway’s point of view. 
> 
> I envisioned Enzo and Rosemary saying “ Say goodnight, Gracie” whenever baby Grace was put in her crib at night. I thought this would confuse Lia and James and they would ask “why do you keep saying that?” Then The Ferrantes would try to explain about Burns and Allen to no avail. Then Rosemary would say, “look it up on the internet. Everything is on the internet.” (this does kind of tie into the next chapter)
> 
> So, please look up Burns and Allen. Gracie Allen was a brilliant comedian married to George Burns. They had a very popular act in the 30s, 40s and 50s. They had a television show in the 50s which is still shown on oldie channels, at least here in the US. Gracie was the comic. George was the straight man and credited her as the real star. At the end of every appearance, George would say “say goodnight, Gracie” and she would. George outlived her by over thirty years and never remarried. He loved her until the end of his life when I like to think he joined her.


	8. The Kindness of Strangers and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Love you forever and forever  
> Love you with all my heart  
> Love you whenever we’re together  
> Love you when we’re apart.”

Time was, Hathaway would have beat him to the crime scene. But that was before Lewis started car-pooling with the pathologist. And hearing her cell phone ring at half past the middle of the night. Plus Hathaway went to see his daughter most mornings. And his daughter’s mother. Lewis didn’t understand their arrangement, but James saw his kid every day and that was what really mattered.

Lizzie Maddox had arrived before either Lewis or Hathaway, as a good sergeant does and she’d already talked to the woman who had called 999, and the other neighbors surrounding the little house. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bath, semi-detached in a middling development, interchangeable with dozens of other crime scenes. SOCOs and PCs crowded the rooms, shouldering past each other as they worked. More PCs stood guard at the front and back doors. 

“Nicola and Martin French, both found dead in the living room,” Lizzie reported as she indicated the bodies. The woman was on her back in front of the coffee table, a bloom of blood spread over the front of her pink nightgown. The man was perpendicular to her body, creating a letter ‘T’. A halo of blood surrounded his head. 

She continued, “Neighbors say there were frequent loud arguments. They have a little boy, but we he doesn’t seem to be here. The woman next door says Nicola’s sister lives on the street behind and thought the child might be with her. Social services is trying to get in touch with her.”

James arrived as Lizzie finished the rundown. Lizzie pointed with her pen at a glob of something white on James’ lapel, “Sir, she got you again.”

“She keeps trying to grab the spoon,” Hathaway said. He tried to clean the area with his handkerchief but only succeeded in creating a white smear. 

“We’ve got to get you a breakfast tarpaulin, James,” Laura said, crouching as she examined the bodies. “Mrs. French was shot at close range in the chest, probably from a distance of 2 to 3 centimeters. Bullet went through the heart. There is some bruising on her face and arms, some fresh, some at varying levels of healing. Mr. French, contact wound to the right temple. I estimate time of death for both between 5:30 and 7:00 this morning, which I believe is consistent with the 999 call.”

“Murder suicide?” Lewis asked. “The gun is in his hand.”

“Likely according to what I see so far. I’ll know more after the post mortems.”

“Thanks Laura,” Lewis said. He took in the scene. Laundry was partially folded on the coffee table, the nearby basket still holding some items. He lifted a small Spiderman shirt out of the basket. Plastic dinosaurs and action figures dotted the sofa and end tables. Something didn’t feel right. He walked into the kitchen. There were no dishes on the table, or in the sink. 

He walked down the hall, looking into the bedrooms. The wall in the child’s room had “LIAM” spelled out in large blue and green letters. The little bed looked tumbled as if the boy had popped out of it looking for breakfast. 

“Lizzie,” he called out. “Something doesn’t feel right. Mom and Dad are in nightclothes. No evidence of breakfast in the kitchen. This apparently happened quite early this morning. If he went to the aunt’s last night, I would expect his bed would still be made. Search for the kid again.”

Lizzie directed two PCs to help with a more exhaustive search. Lewis heard furniture being moved, doors opening and closing, Liam’s name being called out.

“Sir,” the young woman PC called from the child’s room. Hathaway followed the sound of her voice, Lewis behind him. 

In the bedroom, they watched as Lizzie directed the beam from her flashlight into the closet. Hathaway peered in and then folded his long body into a crouch. “Hey there, Liam.” James spoke in a gentle voice. “Wow, you’re a great hider. I bet you win at hide and go seek all the time. Are you hungry?” 

Robbie heard movement in the closet and then saw a flash of ginger hair. 

“Do you like chocolate biscuits? My little girl is too small to eat biscuits yet, but I think she’ll like them when she’s older. I have some biscuits her mum gave me,” James continued. “She said I was to share them with Robbie here,” gesturing with his thumb to Lewis, “but I’d rather share them with you. Would you like that?” 

The ginger hair bobbed and James held his hands out. In a heartbeat, a tiny form jumped into his arms and two chubby arms locked tight around James’ neck. Hathaway stood up, cradling the child who was wearing dinosaur footie pajamas. “Oh my goodness, you must be cold.”

James looked at Lewis who understood immediately what was needed. Lewis picked up a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapped it around the child, with a generous amount folded over. As James moved to the door, he nodded to the woman PC to come with him.

“Hey Liam, we’re going to play a game,” he said, as he flipped the end of the blanket up over the child’s head. “ Let’s count to 20 together while you hide under the blanket. One, two, three….”

James continued counting as he carried the blanket covered child through the bloodbath of a living room. Laura’s eyes followed him and then moved to Lewis, showing her concern. He understood her message completely. Keep an eye on James. 

“Twenty!” Hathaway flipped the blanket back once they were clear of the living room. The boy’s hands remained tightly clasped around James’ neck. Perhaps Hathaway had hoped he would be able to pass the boy to the PC, but clearly the child only wanted James. 

Lewis followed them through the kitchen and stood in the open door as James carried the boy down the driveway. The woman PC trailed him.

James seemed to be talking to the boy as he walked slowly. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a ziploc sack of biscuits. The boy released one hand to receive a biscuit, the other still tightly clutching the collar of Hathaway’s black suit jacket. The boy ate one treat after another. It was now late morning and the poor kid hadn’t had any breakfast. Thank God Lia sent James off this morning with a snack.

Hathaway scanned the crowd of neighbors, lookie loos and press. He turned so the boy would not be on display, leaning over to say something to the PC. She walked up to a small group among the bystanders, and guided them onto the driveway. Lewis recognized two of them as social services workers. The woman with them must have been the aunt. 

“Get the rest of those bystanders to move away from the drive,” Lewis said to the police personnel that were standing in front of the house. 

Social services brought the aunt toward Hathaway and the child. When the boy spotted her he broke into a grin and released his grip on James who was able to pass the boy to her. James spoke to the woman for a moment and then laid his hand on the little boy’s head, in some form of blessing perhaps. 

Lewis watched as Hathaway walked up the driveway. James' eyes were downcast and his jaw tightly clenched. The PC followed him, tears pooling in her eyes.

“You okay,” Lewis asked as Hathaway entered the kitchen. 

“Fine.” 

“Looks like Liam christened you,” Lewis said, brushing crumbs from Hathaway’s jacket which was decorated with smears of chocolate. 

“It’s bound for the dry cleaners,” James mumbled. He kept his eyes down and his arms folded as if he were trying to hold himself together. 

“Laura said the postmortems will be ready by 4 o’clock. I don’t think there’s much more to be done here. Let’s get back to the nick.”

Hathaway nodded and left without another word.

As he walked outside, Lewis saw the young PC sitting in her police car. “You okay?” he asked. “These cases are hard on everyone.”

“It’s just so sad,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “That poor little boy without his mum. DI Hathaway was trying so hard to keep his spirits up. He was singing these silly made up nursery rhymes to make the boy smile.”

“He’s a good soul,” Robbie said. “Make sure you take a nice long break before you go back to the station. My orders.”

He waited for Laura to finish and had her drive him home to pick up his car. He loved the convenience and closeness of driving together in the morning, but he often forgot to grab a ride back to the nick with Hathaway or Maddox. 

The station was quiet when he got back around 2 o’clock. News of the probable murder suicide had spread through the place. It was the kind of case that affected everyone, even those who hadn’t been at the scene. 

Hathaway and Maddox were eating sandwiches from the canteen while they worked. “We got you ham and cheese, sir,” Lizzie said, glancing up from her work.

“Thanks,” he replied. There was indeed an orange juice, a sandwich and a packet of crisps on his desk. 

“I noticed a calendar from a day nursery in the kitchen, sir,” she reported. “I called and the director said that Liam was a sweet little boy but seemed timid and jumpy around loud noises. Mum was the only one they ever saw. I’m going to stop there in a few minutes. She has some artwork she’d like me to see that might shed light on the family relationship.”

When Lizzie returned from her interview, she had a sheaf of nursery school artwork projects in her hand. She looked very shaken, and Lewis wondered what the pictures showed.

“What have you got there?” he asked. 

“They’re a bit disturbing,” she replied. “I’d like to show them to our psychologist, but Dad comes off as pretty scary in some of these family assignments. But I have something else I want to show you both. Would you mind if I shut the door?”

Lewis and Hathaway both rose as Lizzie shut the door. They stood behind her as she typed into her computer. “I got a text from one of my girlfriends while I was leaving the nursery. She found this in her Twitter feed. You need to see this. Someone from the crowd of bystanders took video this morning.”

Lizzie clicked on a link and the video began, showing Hathaway’s tall, black-clad figure carrying the little boy wrapped in a blanket. The tenderness of that moment jumped off the screen. But it came with the heartbreaking knowledge that this child had been in the house when his father killed his mother and then himself. 

“It’s all over the internet,” Lizzie said. “The comments all seem very positive, for what that’s worth.” 

All color drained from Hathaway’s face. “Excuse me,” he said as he made for the door. 

“Can you text me the link? I need to show this to the Chief Super,” Lewis said. He followed James through the station and out to the courtyard. Hathaway lit a cigarette and began to pace. Lewis decided it was probably best to give him some time to get his head around things. Besides, Lewis needed to see Jean Innocent.

“Ma’am, I have something you need to see,” he said after being granted access by her administrative assistant. 

“I’m already watching it,” Innocent said, looking at her computer screen. “Has James seen this?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s still trying to process it.”

“It’s not a problem as far as public relations goes. Reactions are quite positive toward the police. But the video has been taken up by the media and I’m concerned about privacy issues, both for Hathaway and the little boy. Listen to this: ‘Detective Inspector James Hathaway, a new father himself, comforted a child today in an apparent murder suicide in Cowley.’ Someone must have talked to the press and if I find out it was one of ours, there will be hell to pay.”

“This is going to be terrible for James.”

“Agreed. I’m concerned that the press is going to hound him. It’s probably best if he doesn’t go home for a few days until something else catches the public interest and this dies down.”

“I’ll see to it, ma’am.”

He and Hathaway went to the morgue to get Laura’s report while Lizzie talked to the psychologist about Liam’s artwork. With concerned glances in Hathaway’s direction, Laura told them that her report would reflect murder suicide. There was nothing to suggest another possibility. 

“Are you okay?” Lewis asked as they drove back to the station. 

“I’m furious,” Hathaway bit out. “That poor little boy has his life blown up and some idiot is getting their fifteen minutes of fame by way of a viral video. It’s a travesty.”

“It is that,” Lewis agreed. “But that’s not what I was asking and you know it. How do you feel?”

“I hate it. Is that what you wanted to know? It’s not enough that the kid has to deal with this for the rest of his life. But now there is this video that never, ever goes away, showing every tragic detail. And I’m right there, always reminding him of the worst day of his life.”

Lewis nodded. “Thing is, video or not, this day is going to replay for him forever. But do you want to know what I think? I think that when he sees that video he will remember the very tall man who carried him out, and gave him chocolate biscuits and sang him silly nursery rhymes. He’ll remember that you were kind to him on the worst day of his life.”

“How did you know about the nursery rhymes?” James asked with a smirk.

“I have my sources.”

They returned to the station and finalized their report on the murder suicide of Nicola and Martin French. Lewis was in no hurry to leave, preferring to wait until it was fully dark and easier to avoid the press. He’d already told Hathaway that he shouldn’t go back to his apartment and that he should let Lewis drive. James had objected, but acquiesced eventually. He probably didn’t relish being alone. 

It was nearly 8 o’clock when they got in the car. Fortunately, no press seemed to be loitering around. “I want to see Grace,” Hathaway said, softly.

He drove to Lia’s house. Lewis had given up on trying to figure out Hathaway. There was no common point of reference between them. Education, interests, life experiences, family relationships--in every category, he and Hathaway were chalk and cheese. But he loved the man in ways he couldn’t express and wanted above all else for James Hathaway to find some peace and happiness. Lewis had known him for the better part of a decade and in all that time Hathaway seemed to always be wanting something that was just out of reach.

In December, when Grace was six months old, Lia and Grace had gone to Tuscany where Lia’s parents had bought a house. Lia had apparently asked James if he wanted to come along. Instead, James inexplicably decided on a pilgrimage in Spain. No, not a pilgrimage. Just a walk. But instead of finishing the walk, Hathaway turned around and went back the way he came. James had shut down the conversation when Lewis had asked why. All Lewis knew was that he’d taken the train to Italy and returned to the UK with Lia and Grace.

At Lia’s, they climbed the brick steps and Hathaway rang the doorbell. Lia opened the door with a surprised, but not unwelcoming expression. 

“May I see Gracie,” James asked. 

“James, I just got her down for the night,” Lia started, but something in his eyes stopped her. “Come on in.”

They entered and Lia reached out to take their coats. When she saw James’ suit jacket she exclaimed, “What happened? I know this bit was Gracie, but it looks like you rolled around in chocolate.”

“Long story,” he said, as he slipped out of the jacket and laid it atop his coat. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Come on,” she said. “You too, Robbie. You haven’t seen your goddaughter in a long time. Come see how big she is.” At the top of the stairs, she touched James’ arm. “My God, James, you’re shaking. Here, let me get you a blanket.”

She took a blanket from the airing cupboard and wrapped it around Hathaway’s shoulders. As they entered the nursery, Lia gently guided James to the rocking chair. Reaching into the crib, she lifted the sleeping baby. Lia carried Grace over to Lewis so he could see the child before placing her in James arms. Finally, Lia retrieved a blanket from the crib with which to cover them both. 

Lewis moved to the door, feeling like he was intruding on something deeply personal to this little family. James was whispering to Lia, but Lewis couldn’t hear what he was saying. He heard her say, “Of course.” Lia leaned over and kissed the top of James’ head. Moved by the act, Lewis turned away, but not before he saw Hathaway smile. 

Lia led Lewis out of the room and down the stairs. “You look like you could use a cuppa,” she said. 

“I could, indeed.”

“What’s this all about with James?” she asked, as she set about filling the kettle and putting it on to heat. She took mugs down from the cupboard and brought out the sugar and milk and tea. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Have you seen the news tonight?” Lewis asked. 

She shook her head. “I’ve returned to work. Things are a lot more hectic and didn’t get a minute all day.” 

“We were at a murder suicide in Cowley this morning. There was a three year old boy in the house. James carried him out.”

“Oh my God,” she said, dropping into a chair. “I can’t even imagine it.”

“You don’t need to imagine it. It was caught on cell phone video which became the hot news story tonight.” He took out his phone and queued it up. “It might help if you see this.”

By the time the video ended, Lia had tears rolling down her face. “Now I know how his jacket got in that condition,” she said, voice thick with emotion. “Seriously, though. How do you do this? How do you handle seeing stuff like this every day?”

“It’s not every day, thank god. But some cases can tear your heart out, especially when kids are involved. When my children were young, I would do exactly what James is doing--hold them tight.”

Lia got up and poured hot water into their mugs. She put a few of the biscuits on a plate and brought everything to the table.

“It was a good thing you sent James with a pocket full of biscuits this morning,” Lewis said, biting into one..

“I worry about him. He’s been looking too thin, lately. I don’t think he takes care of himself.”

“You’ve been good for him,” Robbie said. “You and Gracie.”

“Really? I feel as if we added a new layer of stress in his life.”

Lewis shook his head. “No. He knows you care and that is everything to him.” Lewis finished his tea and stood up. “I should get home to Laura. Give me a call when he’s ready to leave.”

“We talked a bit,” she said. “He’s going to stay here tonight.” 

As they walked to the door, Lia held up a hand. The sound of James singing in the nursery floated down the stairs, what sounded like a Beatles song. 

“He sings this one to her all the time. It’s my favorite,” Lia said. As James reached the chorus, she continued, “This part makes me sad.”

“Love you forever and forever  
Love you with all my heart  
Love you whenever we’re together  
Love you when we’re apart.”

The lad certainly had a fine singing voice. James finished that song and was onto “My Girl.” 

“Goodnight, pet,” Robbie said, kissing Lia’s cheek. “Take care of him for me.”

Later, after Robbie went home he told Laura he thought James was going to be alright. “I left him wrapped in blankets and singing to Gracie.” 

He had always felt that James was not well tethered to the world. Like he was a kite on a string held aloft by air currents and might fly away into the sun one day. Lewis pictured himself and Laura holding the end of that string and that scared him. What if they were not able to hold on? Now it seemed there were two more hands grabbing onto that string, tying James to the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The inspiration for this chapter was the indelible image of Phil Hartman’s children being carried from the house by police, especially the little girl in her nightgown. I wondered what was the emotional impact to those cops, who might have had children of their own. I don’t think we recognize how these things affect them enough. 
> 
> The songs James sings to Gracie are the Beatles “I Will” written by Paul McCartney:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-abNGP1BK4
> 
> And My Girl by by the Temptations:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_CSjcm-z1w


	9. Stretching the Metaphor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would she have chosen this path for herself, she wondered. All those months ago, there had been no active decision on her part. She didn’t say to herself, “this man, this is the one I want to link my life with.” She’d simply enjoyed an evening with a funny, attractive guy and woke up one day in a partnership for the foreseeable future. Maybe God had a wicked sense of humor after all. She might not have chosen James, but she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I will be posting a "missing scene" that fits right before chapter 6. Why a missing scene? Because I have a bit of a "hurt/comfort" addiction. That's why. I might need to find a 12 step program for it.

Lia woke to the weight of an arm across her midsection. Light was peeking through the blinds, but the house was quiet. Gracie was still asleep. Lia stroked her hand along the pale arm that covered her causing the owner of the arm to stir. She glanced over to see that James’ eyes were open and watching her in amusement. 

“Is this the long arm of the law I’ve heard about?” she asked as she took his hand and lifted it off her. But she didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he said. “For letting me in last night.”

“I’m glad you knew you could come here.” She brought his hand up to her lips, turned it and pressed a kiss to the palm before releasing it. “You are always welcome.”

Last night, they’d sat over cups of tea after James had returned Gracie to her crib. Lia had made him a sandwich and then another when he’d devoured the first. He’d looked calmer, less haunted than he had earlier and relief had washed over her. She remembered his comment about “one foot out the door” on police work and understood now what he had meant.

“I don’t want you to feel that you have no choice about being a cop,” she had told him last night. “We would manage if you wanted to look for something else. I hope you know we would be there with you.”

“I do, actually,” James had said. “I’m still not sure what I’ll do in the future. Robbie said something today, though. That maybe the boy would remember me as someone who took care of him. I’m holding onto that thought for now.”

“You look all done in,” she had said, patting his hand. “We both should get some rest. That child wakes up early and full of energy.”

James slept over from time to time when he’d relaxed with a couple of beers at dinner after the evening routine of bath and lullabies was done. He usually slept on the day bed in the nursery, which was unfortunately just a bit short for his 6 foot 3 inch frame. His long, skinny feet hung off the end. 

She’d drawn him up the stairs last night. He’d seemed like a sleepwalker, moving without volition. When he started to drift to the nursery, she redirected him to her room. “You need a proper rest.” 

He hadn’t fought her, instead stripping down to his underwear and dropping onto the end of the bed. “That poor little boy,” he’d muttered. “He must have been so frightened by the sounds he was hearing and had hidden himself at the back of the closet. He leapt into my arms.”

She had pulled back the coverlet and top sheet. “He knew you’d take care of him. And you did. Now, try to rest.”

Lia had stretched out next to him, listening as James breathing became steady and restful. It took her longer to sleep as she thought about this man who had to steel himself everyday to do his job, and lost a little bit of himself with every tragedy he witnessed. She had seen James tear himself apart in the months since Grace’s birth. And yet, he showed up every day and cared for his child. 

He hadn’t talked much about work during that time. She knew he’d received his promotion as everyone had expected. After all, he was brilliant and incredibly competent. Even with her limited window into his work, she knew that. The period after he became an inspector, when Robbie retired, seemed to be the darkest. It had alarmed her to see how much pain he was in, how lost he seemed. And again, he came every day.

That darkness seemed to lift a bit when Robbie came back as a contractor. After that, when she saw James he was more relaxed. He would have a plate of pasta, or an omelet with her in the evening after Grace was down for the night. James would tell her some of what happened that day, a funny story about his sergeant, something amusing Robbie had said. Occasionally, he would mention a rough case, as if by saying the words out loud made it less awful.

But last night was the first time she’d seen him so directly affected by work. Or at least it was the first time he’d reached out to her and Grace. She hadn’t known how bad it had been until Robbie had talked to her and showed her the video. She’d acted entirely on instinct when she put a sleeping child into James’ arms. 

Would she have chosen this path for herself, she wondered. All those months ago, there had been no active decision on her part. She didn’t say to herself, “this man, this is the one I want to link my life with.” She’d simply enjoyed an evening with a funny, attractive guy and woke up one day in a partnership for the foreseeable future. Maybe God had a wicked sense of humor after all. She might not have chosen James, but she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.

The morning quiet was broken by Gracie’s cries. “I’ll get her,” James said, throwing back the covers and sliding out of bed. Lia pushed herself up and stacked a couple of pillows behind her. She listened to the sound of James talking to Gracie as he changed her nappie. Grace’s face was flushed with sleep, her chubby hand gripping the neck of James’ vest as they entered the bedroom. He set the hungry child on the bed next to Lia.

James stretched out on his side, his head propped up on one arm. Lia unbuttoned her nightdress and looked at him as he watched his daughter nestle down and nurse. Gracie’s hair was white blonde in the morning light. She was definitely her father’s daughter as she was also, at eight months, in the 85th percentile for length on the growth chart.

“Have you ever thought about having more children?” he asked as Gracie finished feeding. Lia handed the baby back to him and slid back down in the bed. 

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine having the energy to enter the dating pool at this point in my life.”

James rolled his eyes. “Let me rephrase that. Have you ever thought of having more children with me?”

Lia rolled over to face him. “Honestly James, I didn’t think that was something you would even consider.”

He lifted Gracie above his head, to her delight. “Well, I like the one we have a lot.”

“She’s a keeper,” Lia agreed. “Of course, there is no guarantee that another one would be as good. Could be collicky. Might not be as cute.”

“Understood. I think I could live with that.”

“You’re serious?” Lia asked. 

“I am, though my conscience just slapped me for even suggesting it. I haven’t been there for you and Gracie. I have no business talking about another child. I’ve failed miserably, and don’t even have the right to tell you how I feel.”

“Haven’t been there for us? By whose measure? Certainly not mine.”

“I moved out. I left you with a newborn.”

“And you’ve seen us every day. You’ve been here for us in every way that matters from the day I told you I was pregnant. If you want to say you love me, go ahead. If you can’t, frankly it doesn’t matter. Your every action for the past year and a half has said it.”

“I love you,” he told her over the top of their baby’s head. 

“I love you, too. And if you want to move in here, that’s wonderful. And if you want to keep your apartment, well, it’s not the most cost effective arrangement, but that’s okay too.”

James laughed. “I was just remembering something Robbie said to me when I first told him about the baby. He said I just had to show up. That kids were easy graders.”

“Robbie is a wise man.” 

“So, what do you think all this means in terms of the bus stop metaphor?” James asked.

“I think we’ve stretched that metaphor pretty thin. But maybe now, the two people from the bus stop decided they loved each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this far. I can’t remember enjoying the writing of a story more. I left the ending a little ambiguous, because, let’s face it, James is ambiguous. I think he gives up that lovely, but odd apartment, but who knows. It’s James after all.
> 
> Couple of things in my head that I didn’t put in the fic because they didn’t quite fit. I pictured Lia sitting on the stairs whenever James sang to Gracie, out of sight so as not to intrude on a special time for him and his daughter. And I pictured Enzo and Rosemary listening too during that really tough period after he left at first. Maybe that was a way for them to understand James and not be angry with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Covid-19. I haven’t been this driven to write fanfic in more than 20 years, but isolation does strange things to us. I’m new to the Morse/Endeavour/Lewis world, having only started watching in January, first with Endeavour, then Morse and finally into what is actually my favorite, Lewis. I’m not new to fanfic, though, having written a metric ton of it, mostly X--Files (see links below if you are curious). 
> 
> I’m American, though I have been to England, and specifically Oxford and work for a company that has offices in the UK and have reported into teams there in the past. Please be patient with any Americanisms--I usually have a good ear for language, and do a lot of research, but I may get things wrong.


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